I'm born and raised in LA.
Had a fake ID at 15- was doing the party scene hard and heavy laughing with door men when my 21st birthday finally rolled around... I'm 26 now. Going out- just isn't my thing anymore. Same assholes different place each night. I just don't. I could care less-
But sometimes... When my girls rally and I put on my disco shoes and party panties... Here are some of the results (and I'm trying to be kind with the asshole faces I have at this point... I'll say that) but four bars, 3 dirty martinis, 2 vodka gimlets- a tequila sunrise and 3 red headed sluts later... Here I am at 5 pm the next day still complaining about my hair hurting. What an amateur I've become... or maybe I've actually just started to grow up. I'm hoping it's the later- but either way, sorry fashion monsters but last night I was a full blown party monster. Need to call my masseuse for an emergency session immediately... Sorry roxanne. Xx the party monster who still can't find that damn bottle of Advil... Asshole!
getting into a really dark mood... my best inspiration comes when I go to that really fucked up dark place. dear outside world. you confuse me and scare the living shit out of me.... hopefully that can clear up all the questions of what is Jazzieland...
love this shot
I have my moments of loving her face and then being so underwhelmed I want to put on brass knuckles and beat the shit out of it at other times... this one.... oozes sex. I fucking love it
people may have still been winding down from "the holidays" but... there ain't no rest for the wicked my little monsters... I'm pulling ideas like crazy about an incredible new editorial I've been asked to style for Astonish being shot by Kevin Osmond- and editorials... mean... everything to me. fuck a red carpet. fuck an awards ANYTHING... editorial = art. and that's all I give a fuck about in this world is art...
running around with my cray cray Ceecee, with Jimi Hendrix in tow- I've been forming the story I want to tell with the images that Kevin and I will create. The theme? Imperfection
anyone who knows me in the slightest is aware that my line is called ...the.PERFECT... all of my life- I've been striving- killing myself to BE PERFECT. I was the coked out prom queen, the perfect principal ballerina with the Joffrey Junior ballet- getting straight A's at the same time as nailing my pas de quos. Let me speed things up to just say that I "broke my silence" the moment my friend Luke Gilford asked to shoot me for the "Hollywood Help" feature in Swindle magazine when I was 19... The question posed was, "who really raises the children of the wealthy elite?" here's the photo to help explain...
my housekeeper Jose and I... my mother didn't give birth to me... the one who did left... my "nana" Helen is from Guatemala... if you find the article you'll understand the direction I want to go. I want to break the silence for all of us that have been forced to live the lie... the bullshit facade that everything is perfect behind the large iron gates of the estate. It's not. Empty houses- you can scream but no one hears... here's the best piece of advice that I can only hope one of my shit relatives who will read this will allow to marinade in their mind...
you can't pay anyone to give a shit about you. you can't pay people to love you.
I've been called a sick twisted fuck many a times before... as I've gotten older- it's become more and more of a compliment with my work. My incredibly talented and bad ass friend, the make up monster Sarah Tanno- credited as the queen "face beater" to Lady Gaga (shop talk for a really fucking good make up artist = "she knows how to beat a face", "that bitch beat the SHIT out of that face" etc etc) first told me about Chadwick Tyler last year, as a sick twisted fuck I would drool to work with... Shilshh- you weren't fucking around. Chadwick Tyler... a sick twisted fuck who is right up my alley... he captures this intense honesty of these beaten up strung out models that is just breath taking. I don't really care if you get it or not. If you do, don't thank me... thank my incredibly talented friend Sarah Tanno (Http://www.sarahtanno.com )... Chadwick- from one sick twisted fuck to another... let's go riding through skid row- make the models look like they've been beaten to shit and need their next shot of heroin to see the light of day- and have them dripping in diamonds- while blood is dripping out of their mouths... that just gave me a fashgasm.
Ann Demeulemeester. Never have I seen a designer whom has defied the very reason of why I decided to become a designer... I wasn't even 9 years old, and sitting on the floor of my bedroom, just having come home from a little shopping spree with the BSJ (my dad) he walks in as I have dumped all of my pretty new purchases on the floor and I was caught red handed cutting the neck off of a new Blumarine cashmere sweater, my dad flipped asking why I was ripping apart the clothes he just bought during my usual Sunday Barney's massacre... And I looked up at him- scissors in hand, and simply replied, "Daddy, I'm sorry but they don't make any clothes the way I want them. That's why I have to be a fashion designer."
Ann Demeulemeester's thought process, concept, it's just every detail of what IM currently obsessing over- her collection KILLS IT. I can't stop lusting after sheer black silk chiffon and long silk tassels... I could go on and on- but all I will say is, I really want to just sublet my place- fly out to Antwerp and bang on her door with my portfolio in hand, and hope to have a chance to be involved in her beautiful creations... I believe in two things- and bear in mind I'm an atheist... I believe in King Hov- and The Queen- Queen Ann... The rest be damned. Xx
After the unwrapping is done- my best friend JP said it best... That dog has the life- he gets carried around by a hot little blonde and sits on thousands of dollars of shit all day. Meatard, what can I say? It's true- Jimi Hendrix is getting to play with my new Adrienne Albin fox fur coat more than I am. But then again- how could you wake up this face? Xx Bella & Jimi Hendrix